


Desperate to Connect

by queuedepoisson



Series: The Vintage Whore Collection [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Angst, Asthma, Awkward Meal Trope, Blow Jobs, Fist Fights, M/M, Minor Violence, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queuedepoisson/pseuds/queuedepoisson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If Steve couldn't stand to let a stranger freeze, he probably had pretty strong feelings about letting a friend starve. Friend wasn't the right word, but Bucky didn't know what was."</p><p>A pre-war AU based on one shift in the timeline:  Steve's parents didn't die, but Bucky's did.  They never meet in the orphanage and their lives are on very different paths when they first meet.  But still, Steve is so damn good.</p><p>Second in a series:  1938, about a month later</p><p>Remember when I said minimal feels.  Well, we'll work on that next time.  Still plotty porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate to Connect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alchemistique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemistique/gifts).



> So, it ended up taking a month between part 1 and 2. I'd like it be closer to two weeks but that's part of why these are somewhat standalones in a series rather than chapters. Part 3 is already in progress and if the angst is too much this time, know that things do get better next time for our boys.
> 
> Mat continues to be indispensable at making me better. I'll never tell how many of his "notes" I copy/paste right in without question. I am also blaming him for these getting longer.
> 
> Thanks to Kelty for lending a hand this time and helping with cheesy joke writing. And Emily for proofreading everything, even her own presents.
> 
> Title is from Heart's A Mess - Gotye
> 
> (And yes, I'm using the 166 Montague Street address for Steve and have spent far too much time wandering around the area using Street View.)

It wasn't that late yet for a Friday, maybe 10 pm, as Bucky made his way north on Hicks. He could almost see the glow of Manhattan over the rooflines, humming epicenter of the world just across the river, lighting up the clouds like it was twilight despite the fact the sun had long been set. Buildings tightly lined the Brooklyn street, tall but nothing compared to the towers of downtown. Most businesses were closed by this hour so it was easy to pick out the bars and clubs, light and noise streaming into the street.

To anyone watching, he appeared to be on a casual stroll. In reality, however, his mind was on the business at hand, looking for guys who had struck out for the night hanging around outside of those clubs. The goal was to start early so he could turn over as many johns as possible and hopefully walk away with the adequate cash to cover a room for the week. April meant warm days and no more snow, but the chill at night was enough he would rather not squat in an empty building with no power if he could avoid it.

The navy yard would have been a sure bet, but a kid his size could get roughed up pretty easily, if not by one of the marks, then by the competition. With that in mind, he wandered the campus neighborhoods, reasoning that college students were the next best option to sailors. They were about the only people in this part of town with any extra scratch, since most of these middle-class joes got stipends from their parents. That plus the urges and stupidity of youth played in his favor. There was a good chance he could find some frustrated kid, smoking at the back door, pissed about whatever girl didn’t do what she led him to believe she would. Assholes were by far the easiest to part with their money.

He forced himself not to think about the fact that if he was near campus, he was near Steve’s place. Over a month had passed since the night he spent there. He told himself the entire reason he remembered which night it happened was because it was the last heavy snow of the season. It had nothing to do with the way he could still vividly recall the kid's innocent face or the debauched noises Bucky skillfully coaxed out of him. He shouldn’t even remember his name. He wasn't exactly a client, but he probably wasn't good for Bucky and Bucky was definitely bad news for Steve. He shook his head to refocus himself.

The key to this whole alley thing was to not interrupt anyone in the middle of business. Goods, whether big guns or small vials, were traded in silence and you didn't see it. People in a huddle placing bets with their last scrap of pay, you didn’t see it. Someone getting kicked in the stomach when one of those bets went bad, you didn’t see it. So when he heard punches being thrown he was ready to look elsewhere without another thought. But then he heard the voice of the guy who was too dumb to stay down.

"Who do you think you are to talk to her like that?"

He knew he was going to regret it, but he rounded the corner and saw two mooks wailing on a miserable pile of a boy. He grabbed the first assaulter by the collar and threw him against the wall. The second guy pivoted away from Steve and swung for him, but he gamely dodged it, sending the guy lurching forward as well.

All it took was one quick look at Steve, mumbling "Bucky?" in surprise, for him to be sure he was sticking his neck out for the right guy. The attacker he threw to the wall had cracked his head pretty good, but the second guy came at him one more time and Bucky landed one right on the chin.

"Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?" He spat on their shoes as they started heading towards him once more, and tried to keep Steve safely behind him.

"Didn’t know your boyfriend was on his way to protect you, you pansies."

"I’m a pansy cuz you paid me to rub you out when your girl won’t? Get lost before I make your face somethin’ she won’t wanna look at."

Bucky regretted the words as soon as they flew out, clenching his jaw and readying for the worst. He was always shooting his mouth off in the worst possible situations, and this time it could cost Steve a further thrashing also. So no one could have been more surprised than Bucky when the tough-guy mask fell from his opponent's face and was replaced by an incredulous stare. It was a lucky break but it figured he was exactly the kind of asshole Bucky had been thinking about. For all he knew, the guy recognized him and was afraid of being found out in front of his friend. Either way, Bucky would remember his face if he came around again.

"Come on, we don't need to deal with this kind of trash," he snarled, shooting Bucky a dirty look and stalking off with scarcely a look back to see if his partner in crime followed. Even with a bloody hand to his forehead, the other guy looked confused about giving up so easily. Retreat didn't altogether make sense for two thugs like them, especially considering one of their targets could barely pick himself off the pavement, but he started off after him without arguing. Bucky didn't look away from their backs until they turned the corner.

"Fuck ‘em," he said as he gave Steve a hand to get all the way to standing, his lip bloodied. "Apparently, I did need to keep an eye out for you."

"You go out to meet girls, to dance, but no one asks. I'm used to that, it's not so bad. But having to be around these jerks," Steve paused to press his sleeve to his lip. When it came away red, he didn't look surprised and Bucky guessed this wasn't the first time he'd gotten himself into this kind of fight. "You wouldn't believe the things he was saying to his girl, calling her a roundheel and a dumb dora. She was a sweet thing, didn't deserve nothing like that. No girl does. And no one else was going to do anything about it!"

"Do you think maybe those geniuses had a reason for staying out of it?" Bucky's voice dripped with sarcasm as he straightened Steve's tie, pulled askew in the fight, mocking him even further.

Steve pushed his hand off harshly and his eyes met Bucky's in a hard stare. With his mouth set in a firm line, he snapped, "There's no good reason for not defending a lady when she needs it."

Bucky nodded and bit down on his lip to avoid smirking. There was no need to rile Steve up any further, considering the indignant way he was trying to brush the dust off his slacks and pull his coat back on. Once they were as cleaned up as they were going to get, they headed back towards the main road. Bucky gave into the laugh then, thinking to himself how Steve didn’t seem to know the first thing about self-preservation. "Well, I’m just glad I was in the right place for once. Or maybe it’s you, golden boy, who’s always in the right place, since I don’t have the best luck."

Steve rolled his eyes in response to the golden boy comment. "If that's the case, then I’ve probably used up all my luck for the night. I want to go home and forget about those dopes and dancing and the whole damn thing."

That was Bucky's cue to walk down the road in the opposite direction without getting tangled up anymore with this kid. Against all good sense, he walked towards him instead. Bucky crowded close to Steve to assess the state of his injuries, his fingers unconsciously reaching for Steve's jaw as he tilted the split lip toward the street lamp. Close up like this, he could see the dirt in Steve's hair and the bruise starting above his eye. He had gotten knocked around rather bad. "Maybe you should get that looked at, considering?" He stopped himself before he could continue with _considering your apparent lack of nutrition and health_.

"I save doctor’s bills for the big stuff, and that comes up often enough. But maybe a coffee and some food isn’t a terrible idea." Steve ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake out the grit nonchalantly.

Bucky had already begun to put some distance between them, trying to follow his own advice about leaving in the other direction too late. He managed a forced smile as he walked backwards, an attempt to cover his nerves that were usually so steady. "Well, there you go. I’ll try to be there next time you need me."

He was uncomfortable with how quickly he had gotten so near to Steve that he could feel his warmth and how natural it felt when he touched him. The pit of his stomach told him to get as far as he could before he made another terrible decision. As soon as he turned away, though, he could just feel what was coming next.

Steve called out to him, "Hey, let me get you something too. Least I can do for the guy that kept me from having to call a doc out in the middle of the night."

Bucky turned but kept his head dipped as he made up his mind. He had planned on hitting a diner once he had enough in his pocket for the night and the cynic in him told him it was stupid to deny the kid if he wanted to be parted with his money for nothing. He had a fairly good feeling Steve wouldn’t let this go easily either. If he couldn't stand to let a stranger freeze, he probably had pretty strong feelings about letting a friend starve. Friend wasn't the right word, but he didn't know what was. Accepting his lot, Bucky replied, "Alright, your treat? How can I say no?"

Steve's face lit up and Bucky commanded the knot in his gut to relax. It made the kid happy and maybe he could admit that Steve's company was a lot less terrible than that of any other guy who might have paid for his dinner.

Steve waited for Bucky to join him before heading down the street, side by side. They looked to anyone else like two pals headed to or from the clubs in the area. An onlooker, however, wouldn't have been able to feel the quiet undercurrent between them that made Bucky uneasy and eager at the same time. Bucky was relieved it was a short walk and he could already see the neon lights of the automat as they turned the corner.

On their way, two girls passed them, walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. They were smiling and giggling and the pair of boys courteously stepped to the side for them. Bucky threw in a charming wink out of habit, but it completely belied how he was feeling. When they moved out of the way, there was only so much room on the path and Steve's shoulder pressed into his, causing every nerve on that side to light up. How could it be that Bucky, accustomed to screwing around within minutes of meeting a guy without a second thought, was buzzing with nervous energy when he felt Steve lean against him? He pulled his arm back as soon as he could, fidgeting with his sleeve and internally denying any residual heat as a figment of his imagination.

When they reached the glass doors, Steve held the door for him and was already digging in his pockets for a handful of nickels as they walked up to the counter. Bucky made sure to stand behind Steve until after he had picked out his own meal. After two days of only coffee and bread, Bucky knew he could eat three plates and still find room for more. When Steve chose a plate of bland meatloaf accompanied by a heaping side of mashed potatoes, he gratefully pointed to the same thing and Steve dropped the nickels in for two of the doors to open. Two more nickels for two cups of coffee and they were on their way to a booth with their trays.

The booths were small, designed to pack in as many people as possible during the busy hours, with extra counter spaces when it was standing room only. At this hour, there were a handful of other people dining and quietly reading their newspapers, but the place was pretty dead. Once they had emptied their trays on the table and hung their jackets on the rack at the end, they slid into the booth, knees bumping together in the narrow space.

Bucky couldn't resist the smell of warm food and quickly set to work on his plate. Steve watched him for a second before asking, "So, Bucky? That a nickname or something?" Bucky raised his eyebrows, fork in mid-air, as he realized what the cost of this meal was actually going to be. He was glad he had the excuse of chewing while he thought of how close to fact his answers should be.

"Yeah, says James on my birth certificate." Bucky quickly shoved another spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth, hoping Steve would get the the idea that he wasn't up for many personal inquiries.

"How do you get Bucky from James?" Apparently, Steve would not be discouraged that easily, which Bucky should have already guessed. He didn't slow down eating to answer.

"You don't. It's from Buchanan, that's my middle name," he said around a mouthful of food. Bucky never told this sort of thing to anyone else and he silently reprimanded himself for talking too much. If it were anyone else, he would have just purred 'If you don't like Bucky, you can call me whatever you want.' Not that many marks asked his name. Steve kept floating between his business and personal boundaries and it bothered him. He was accustomed to keeping those two things clearly divided.

"James Buchanan…" It didn't sound as if Steve was asking for anything more, simply rolling the sound of it around.

Bucky swallowed and responded anyway. "Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes, if you want to be so formal about it." So far, he had told the truth the whole way through, even if it had to be dragged out of him. Was this something Steve brought out in him? That thought made it all the more worrisome. With an edge of venom, he added, "Named after two dead guys I never met." It was morbid, but maybe it would shut down the line of family questions at least.

He knew Steve's questions weren't that invasive or unusual but Bucky was so trained to constantly be on the defensive. There were some ways they couldn't be more different; Steve's openness and Bucky's protective walls.

Bucky had to give him credit for his determination to find common ground as Steve continued on a different tack after a contemplative pause. "Um, so did you grow up here? In New York?"

"Yeah, Hell's Kitchen." Bucky was already getting to the last bites on his plate "You know, why am I the one getting the third degree? Got a job for me or something, Steve?" He added emphasis on the last word to remind Steve hadn't shared the same information.

"Steven Grant Rogers of Brooklyn, born and raised. That better?"

Bucky nodded with a laugh and scraped his plate clean for one last bite. He took his time as he contemplated how strange it was that they had been in the same place all this time, with just a few miles and the East River between them. That was typical for life in New York. But that didn't explain why they kept finding each other now.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Steve finished his dinner as well. Bucky went back to the counter to get some sugar for his coffee. He had learned to tolerate it without but always preferred it tooth-rottingly sweet. He figured by now he was in the clear but when he sat back down, Steve was ready with more questions.

"You really gonna enlist?" Steve started again, more serious than before. Bucky remembered telling him the other night about his fallback plan for the future, one that at least came with more consistent meals and shelter than he had now, which wasn't saying much.

Bucky shrugged. "Sure, why not? I don't exactly have anyone beating down my door here. You think I should wait for Mr. Goldwyn to take a trip to New York and discover me?"

His joke went unappreciated as Steve pressed on. "But what if they send you over there? To fight the Nazis?" He couldn't tell if Steve was scared or eager at the prospect.

"Nah, we'll never get involved in that. Not really." He acted nonchalant but he hoped he was right. He hadn't even been born when the Great War ended but he still felt the missing pieces of his family as he grew up, uncles and cousins absent from the table. Bucky couldn't remember much about his father, but his taciturn manner and limping gait told him that he had left some big pieces over there, too.

Steve's backbone straightened at Bucky's indifferent tone. "Maybe we should, if you watched the newsreels and saw what was going on."

Bucky was taken aback by how earnest Steve became and deflected with yet another wisecrack. "Maybe you'll have to take me to the movies sometime to make sure I watch." He added a wink at the end just to unsettle Steve. It was like whenever Bucky saw a button, he had to push it; or maybe the correct analogy was digging himself deeper into the hole. He was supposed to be convincing Steve, as well as himself, that they were merely acquaintances, not giving him ideas about seeing each other again, even as friends. It was turning into a shitty night for listening to his own advice all around.

Steve didn't miss a beat, adjusting to some of Bucky's smart aleck methods, and leaned forward across the table. "Alright, one last question. Dessert. What's your favorite kind of pie?"

Bucky let out a chuckle. "You don't need to buy me anything else." Steve sat, eyebrows raised, and waited out an answer. "Fine, you choose. Surprise me."

Steve got up and did exactly that. Bucky concentrated intently on his coffee cup to clear his mind but found himself stealing glances of Steve while he studied the wall of cubbies and the options inside. Despite all of Bucky's intentions for the opposite, Steve was practically treating this like a real date, going out of his way with kindness Bucky hadn't earned or deserved. The idea that Steve probably would take him to the movies if he could brought a soft smile to his face. He wiped the look off his face as soon as Steve was heading back with a plate and two forks. He set it down in the center of the table. Apple. Of course it was apple. What else would he expect from a guy as thoroughly all-American as the Fourth of July?

"You really didn't have to," Bucky insisted as Steve sat back down.

"Nah, gotta keep my blood sugar up for the walk home," Steve quipped and picked up his fork to dig in. Bucky reached at the same time and their hands met in the middle. It couldn't have been for very long, brief enough that it seemed purely accidental, but the way they ate the rest of the meal in silence made it seem more important.

Bucky was suddenly very aware of the fact that they had been touching the entire meal, crowded under the table. Never able to leave well enough alone, Bucky slid his leg between Steve's knobby knees and prayed no one else in the automat would notice. It wouldn't be that unusual for this neighborhood, but you couldn't be sure. His gaze was locked on the plate, but he listened carefully for the way Steve's breath hitched when he did it and smirked at his success.

A man at one of the standing counters let out a loud cough and Bucky reflexively drew his leg back. It snapped him back to the reality of where they were and who they were. He blamed himself for dropping his guard outside of a safe space and stood up in a hurry, grabbing his coat from the hook. In his panic, he didn't say a word to Steve as he rushed out the door.

 

  
Watching Bucky turn tail in a panic, Steve understood why but it caused pain and disappointment to rise up in his chest all the same. There was nowhere in public that could be completely safe for them to touch that way, but he was desperate for it, a sign that Bucky wanted him, wanted him around, without a snowstorm forcing them together. It killed him when Bucky drew back, even as his heart raced dangerously and his mouth went dry.

He had thought about that night enough, reliving it in his mind constantly, to get rid of whatever reservations he might have initially had. As unlikely as he thought it was that he would ever see Bucky again, he regretted not doing more to help him, to be his friend at the very least. Steve knew he couldn't let Bucky just run out the door, leaving them both on their own again.

His head remained slightly foggy from the rush as he scrambled away from the table after Bucky. Fortunately, Steve found him outside, a few paces from the door, leaning on a streetlamp. His body language was stiff and cold as he lit a cigarette, but Steve took small comfort in the idea that Bucky could have been a block away running at that point if he had wanted.

Steve huddled next to Bucky, as if he were shielding himself from a chilly gust of wind. It didn't matter that his coat was more than sufficient for the cool night and that the air was still. Steve was looking for any justification to stay close to Bucky's side. He didn't speak up, figuring no matter what he said, it would be an excuse to leave him standing there alone. Instead, he watched the smoke from Bucky's cigarette form and drift in the yellow lamp light. It was an unusual sight to him, as his asthma meant a strict practice of avoiding irritants like that. Watching it pass between Bucky's parted lips, the only relaxed part of his body right now, fascinated him. Steve's eyes watered slightly and he breathed carefully, lungs and throat lightly burning, but he wasn't willing to back away. He grimly contemplated the risks he was taking merely to be near someone, but he stood his ground as they waited each other out in silence.  
By then, it was nearly midnight and the streets were starting to empty in this part of town, the late night revelers deep in Harlem and Greenwich Village. They hadn't talked about where they were going next, but Steve was afraid with each passing minute, it was another opportunity for Bucky to leave on his own. When Bucky discarded what was left of the cigarette, Steve tentatively set in the direction of his apartment, nervous that with every step that Bucky would stop, walk away, leave him. He didn't want to admit that he appreciated the sense of protection Bucky gave him, having someone else on his side. As much as he said he could take care of himself, he had already proven once tonight that wasn't quite true.

Steve stared at the pavement as they walked, counting cracks in the sidewalk to help him concentrate as he worked up the nerve to take some initiative. "Do you wanna spend the night?"

He kept staring down. He remembered how simple it had been to offer Bucky shelter those weeks ago, back when he was a stranger, when he didn't know what it would lead to and how much it would matter to him. He watched Bucky's shoes walking next to his to assure himself he was still there. He considered for a moment intertwining his fingers with Bucky's to make sure he was close, but if Bucky had been that guarded about their hands or knees brushing against each other, he wouldn't suddenly welcome Steve's hand clasped around his.

"You know it's not like that, right? Not like you would with a girl." Bucky's voice was soft, not mocking, but with too much pity for Steve to accept. It pushed him forward, an unspoken dare. He may have been small and inexperienced, but he didn't need to be treated like a child. He was older than this kid by more than a few years, he reminded himself.

He turned to look up at Bucky, meeting his eyes. "Yeah, but I got more to learn, don't I?" It was probably the closest he had ever gotten to the flirty banter Bucky was so comfortable throwing around and he added a small smirk, proud of himself.

Bucky just dropped his head with a small shake and a bemused expression. Blocks passed by and they continued to walk together, despite the fact that Bucky had yet to give him a verbal answer. Steve mentally berated himself with each pace: why he was stupid enough to ask, stupid enough to expect more, stupid enough to want more of something they were both better off without? He was near convinced he should say nevermind to the whole thing but he also knew it would take only one look at Bucky and he would be right back to begging him to stay.

As if to challenge temptation, he looked over at Bucky, all dark hair and lashes, the same jacket on as the night before, probably his only jacket, but fortunately more appropriate tonight than it had been for a late winter snowstorm. The calendar might have officially announced that it was spring but it didn't take the chill out of the late night air. Staring like this, Steve could see the steam of Bucky's breath pass between his lips and dissipate almost immediately, only to form again with his next exhale. He barely realized that he had stopped walking, so entranced by the sight. It was like the smoke from earlier, but the tightness in his chest was caused by something completely different. Bucky stopped a few paces later, realizing Steve was no longer by his side.

Some part of Steve's subconscious powered him forward and before Bucky could get a word out, Steve advanced towards him, full of urgency, crushing their bodies together. The attempt at surprise was successful, practically knocking the wind out of Bucky's lungs and startling him enough to let Steve push him up against the brick of the buildings. Steve's fingers reached around Bucky's neck, guiding their lips together, stretching on his toes to meet them firmly, desperately.

Bucky's hands clamped around his shoulders and Steve was convinced that it was to push him away, to explain that if you couldn’t pay, you couldn’t do that. Instead, he quickly pulled him into the shadow of the lower stairwell of a closed pub. Bucky was now the aggressor, practically covering Steve’s body entirely in this position, and he kept kissing Steve as rough and insistent as it had started. Steve winced and let out a soft groan as the unrelenting pressure made his cut lip ache. The noise merely spurred Bucky on, kissing deeper, and Steve let the electricity between them obscure the pain.

Bucky finally broke the kiss but didn’t move his body, forehead resting against Steve's. "You know we can't do this kind of thing." Bucky bit his lip as he paused and ran his hand from Steve's shoulder up to his neck and then jaw, running his thumb across in a manner that felt exactly like _this kind of thing_ to Steve. "Might get into even more trouble tonight," Bucky added with a coarse whisper.

Steve boldly retorted, "You already beat two guys up for me tonight. Maybe you can teach me how to do that too." The kiss had left adrenaline thrumming in his veins, granting him a flippant kind of courage.

"Nah, you're too pretty for that." Steve knew it was somewhere between a jest and a compliment, but he took offense anyway.

He gritted his teeth, glaring at Bucky, only inches apart. "Now who’s the one gettin’ treated like the girl?"

They stared each other down in the dim light. Steve kept his poker face, even as he became very aware how Bucky's body pressed against his, hips down. He scarcely let himself breathe. He was busy trying to read Bucky's eyes for some clue that would tell him if he would kiss him again, or leave, or maybe clock him in the jaw.

Steve was relieved when Bucky closed the distance between them again, but instead of a kiss, Bucky's lips grazed his cheek, close enough to his ear he could feel the warm air of his breath. He growled, "You want to feel like a man?" and dropped to his knees in front of Steve.

The sight of Bucky on the ground, already wetting his lips hungrily, changed Steve in an instant. All of that screwed-up confidence and cockiness in Steve's belly flew out in a single exhale, his nerve gone. "But you just said." He tried to think of the good reason he had that this couldn't happen. "We don't need to do that again…here…like last time." Steve trailed off, knowing any attempt at objection wasn't honest beyond a fear of being seen.

Steve had become familiar with the way Bucky had a laugh ready for everything, most self-deprecating or bitter, but this one was utterly wicked. "Who said it would be like last time?"

 

  
This had to be the best and worst decision he had made all night. The entire evening had been nothing but clashing impulses, to get closer and to run away. It was hard for Bucky to keep himself closed off when Steve looked at him with that open honest caring face. He couldn't take it anymore, not knowing what to do with that kind of decency directed towards him.

But now, on his knees, where he didn't have to see the way Steve looked at him, this is where he knew what to do. Maybe afterwards he'd be able to think straight again with this tension between them abated. Once he had taken care of this physical need for Steve, he would see once and for all that Bucky was not the kind of person you chased after like this. His hands went right to work, unbuckling Steve's belt and pulling his briefs and trousers down his thighs. Steve was almost completely hard already. Bucky wondered if all it took was one crushing public kiss to make Steve react this quickly or had he been stiff all through dinner.

Bucky's hands roamed over Steve's hips and belly, feeling the sharp rise and fall of his gasps for air as he took Steve's cock into his mouth. They couldn't afford the soft kisses and teasing licks Bucky used when they were behind closed doors. Steve didn't bother responding to his cheeky question, limiting his communication to hushed moans.

Using practiced movements, Bucky manipulated Steve with long steady strokes of his tongue until he was at the point he was biting down on a knuckle to keep his noises below a whisper. Bucky knew that Steve wouldn't have asked for this, and yet there he was, barely able to contain himself. Honestly, Bucky knew he would never ask for anything from him because Steve wasn't the kind of guy to demand something that wasn't freely given. He wasn't a person that took, and it drove Bucky crazy because he knew it wasn't for lack of desire. When he looked upward for evidence of that hunger, the stairwell was too dark for him to make out Steve's expression. If Bucky couldn't watch or hear Steve lose control in this exposed setting, he would come up with another way to feel it, to prove to himself this was about lust for Steve.

Without interrupting the rhythm of his mouth on Steve's cock, Bucky guided Steve's hand into his hair, lacing his fingers through. He intensified his sucking until Steve's fingers clenched tight, letting his other arm fell against the brick. Bucky still wasn't satisfied and did the same with his other hand, locking himself in Steve's grasp. He slowed down his pace in an effort to overpower Steve's restraint, but the most he could get out of him was muffled begging. He focused on the chill creeping into him through the cement, knees sore and scraped through his pants, familiar reminders he was back in his element and in control.

When one of Steve's hands drifted out of Bucky's hair to caress his face, Bucky caught it instantly and shoved him back into position with a growl. It wasn't enough for him, not rough and urgent and needy like when they were kissing. He needed more if he was going to successfully push away all of the conflicting thoughts he had about Steve, for both of their sakes. In the safe haven of Steve's apartment, he had indulged the idea that they could have something more, but there was no room for that in Bucky's world.

Bucky moved his hands around Steve's slim hips and guided him in thrusting forward. Soon, they were moving together in sync, Steve pushing up as Bucky's mouth slid down. Bucky moaned against Steve's cock, causing his hips to jerk harder than before.

Satisfied that Steve was on edge now, Bucky stilled his head but continued driving Steve's hips upward with his hands. Steve cried out as quietly as he could manage, "Buck, please, don't stop," but Bucky replied with more moans, the light vibrations provoking Steve into quickened breaths and more desperate thrusts.

Steve was now losing control the way Bucky wanted, hips pumping recklessly into his mouth. Bucky was pleased even when it hurt a little and he kept his hands on Steve, in case he got some stupid idea to stop. Instead, he persisted with the same moaning encouragement that got Steve so carried away. This was Steve finally taking what he wanted, he thought. At least that's what Bucky tried to tell himself - that Steve wouldn't spend his whole life giving and never taking until he was used up. If he did learn, would it help anyway? Bucky had taken what he needed in life and still he was used up before he could even properly be called an adult. No matter how much he wanted to believe it, though, he knew Steve wasn't the one taking from him or using him like this. He was doing it to himself. Steve would've taken him home like before and let Bucky stay as long as he wanted, safe. It was Bucky who couldn't just go when he asked.

Whatever he imagined Steve's motivation to be, the sharp thrusts forward were getting rougher as Bucky worked his tongue against Steve's cock. No longer content to hold him in place with his hands fisted in Bucky's hair, Steve tugged him forward as his back arched away from the wall. With the angle change, Bucky felt like he was almost suffocating but he wouldn't let Steve see, instead pulling him deeper into his mouth. It finally hurt how he wanted, small reflexive tears falling, hidden in the dark. But then the knot in his gut from earlier returned because the problem was he still liked it. He could encourage all the hair-pulling he wanted or be near choking, but it wasn't the punishment he was looking for. It wasn't punishment at all.

He tried to concentrate and stay in the moment as Steve got closer, but the realization crushed down on him. When Bucky made that joke about the movies, it wasn't that far off from what he wanted, but that was something that could only happen in Steve's world, not his. Maybe if he was somebody different, if he had grown up with different circumstances or made different choices, they could be together without back alleys or sore knees or the sick feeling at the pit of Bucky’s stomach. He was so busy running from his feelings, or berating himself for having them at all, that he had dragged Steve down here to the gutter with him.

He snapped back, listening to Steve barely form words, almost almost almost. Steve gripped him in a way that Bucky felt might have ripped out his hair if Steve were stronger. With an actual cry that someone could have heard if it wasn't so late and the streets so empty, Steve shot into Bucky's mouth and he captured all of it. At last, he relaxed his jaw but kept his eyes closed tightly, waiting for just a moment before deciding what he had to do.

 

  
Before Steve was able to regain focus, arms slack against the wall beside him, Bucky wiped his chin with the cuff of his sleeve and silently rose from his knees. He was already walking off without a word by the time Steve realized the world around him was still there. His first reaction was confusion, quickly replaced by a crushing sensation in his fragile chest.

"Bucky?" His voice was raspy, despite his best efforts to stay quiet. "Where are you going?"

The last time he was in this position, he couldn't find the strength to open his eyes and watch him leave. Bucky hadn't bothered to wake him that morning, trying to sneak out unnoticed. Steve searched for something to say that would keep him there, but he merely locked the door behind himself, with hardly a goodbye, only the smallest promise that maybe they would see each other again.

So when Bucky paused, even if he was already ten paces away, Steve's hopes jumped. It meant something had changed between them that night, but what he didn't know. Maybe Bucky was just a little more reluctant this time. Maybe there was part of him that didn't want to go at all. It was more than he had gotten before and he was picking up crumbs in the strangest courtship ever.

"I gotta get my head straight, but I know where to find you. Did before, right?" Bucky gave the strangest pained smile before turning back, headed in the opposite direction from Steve at a hurried pace.

Steve thought about running after him. By the time he had himself tucked back in his briefs and his belt was buckled, he knew he could run until he had an asthma attack and he still wouldn’t know which direction Bucky had gone or how far. He wondered how long it would be until he would see Bucky again. Yet, no matter how hurt he was, it felt better than last time because he was a whole lot more confident about the fact that it was _when_ , not _if_.

 


End file.
